I’ve been married for 9 years now, so am by no means an expert. To some, I may as well still be on my honeymoon. I’ve read loads of blogs like this one by Naomi (aka Tattooed Mummy) about the secret to a long and happy marriage, and the common […]
I used to look at my past and shudder. I did some terrible things that only youth would let you get away with. I deliberately avoid people and places that link me to the past because I’m ashamed to introduce my present to it, but recently I’ve been looking at it with exceptionally rose tinted glasses. Every now and again I look back and rather than recoil with disgust I actually miss it. I miss the fun and reckless abandonment. I miss the spontaneity and care free attitude towards life.
Compromise is absolutely key to a marriage. You will never find someone who is so absolutely in sync with you that you will not, at some point, have to submit to your partner’s will. But I’m increasingly finding that the only “right” compromise seems to be my compromise.
I hate superlatives. Especially in my marriage. My wife uses them all the time and it really winds me up. But the problem isn’t hers, it’s mine.